Every Christmas is Last Christmas
by claraoswelve
Summary: Tumblr Whouffaldi Prompt: Could you do a sort of follow up to Last Christmas where they're in the TARDIS talking and stuff and one thing leads to another and yeah… also fluffy. Please?


They were still holding hands by the time they were back in the TARDIS. Clara felt a sort of warmth with her hand clasped in his. A warmth that she wasn't quite ready to let go of. She wanted to savor the moment as if it were the very last time she'd ever witness it.

Every Christmas was last Christmas. That pretty much described her entire relationship with the Doctor. Every hand hold was savored like it was the very last. Every exchange of even somewhat warming glances was savored like it was the very last. Every slightest touch was savored. Every hug. Any display of affection was captured into her heart and held there. She never wanted to let it leave.

The Doctor remained speechless during their time in the TARDIS. He and Clara were simply standing in place, a mutual firm grip on each others hands as they stared at the ground.

There were so many new feelings. Well, they weren't sure if they'd be called new. They'd always been there, but were only recently discovered.

The feelings were deep. They were needy. They were calling out for something that neither companion could quite put their finger on. But whatever the calling was, it was growing stronger. It was what caused the Doctor to finally break the unbearably loud silence.

"So who was the impossible man?" He asked nervously, free hand in his pocket.

"Hmm?" Clara, also seeming to be deeply lost in thought, brought her eyes to his.

"The man you mentioned when we were dreaming." He explained. "You said there was another man besides Danny."

"Ah." Her lips pressed together in a firm line, but the corners were hitching up slightly.

"Well don't just gawk. Who was it then?" He prompted with raised eyebrows, waving his hand in the air, urging her to go on.

Clara smiled, because hadn't they just recently had a conversation like this?

_When did you start believing in impossible heroes? _He'd said.

"Don't you know?" She'd replied then, as she was now.

She felt him tense, and was worried that his grip may loosen on her hand. But it only grew slightly tighter.

The Doctor just lowered his head to look right into her eyes. His expression was unreadable. Unreadable because Clara had never seen in before. Not on any of the faces of his she'd seen.

"I think I do." His voice was soft, words low and barely audible.

"Do you?" She quirked an eyebrow an tucked her bottom lip under her top. "Do you really?"

His response literally took her breath away. All in the same moment, his body twisted sideways and body hunched ever so slightly, right before he raised a hand to her cheek and crashed his lips against hers.

Clara tried to gasp, but the pressure against her mouth wouldn't let her. She didn't mind, though. Not in the least. She felt the Doctor begin to pull away, and frowned inwardly because she realized she hadn't responded. Using the moment to catch her breath, she drew in a big one, and pulled him back to her.

Tongues exploring mouths, teeth grazing lips, they were completely lost in each other. They didn't pause, didn't stop to talk, didn't break unless it was necessary for a breath. They didn't stop to say I love you, didn't even ask if the other was sure if this was what they wanted. Because they both already knew. They weren't stopping for anything. They were savoring the moment, because it might be their last.

Clara was gripping the Doctor's button up shirt. His jacket had been discarded at some point, laying in a heap on the floor. Her other hand was at the back of his head, combing through his curls, flattening them against his head, and tugging slightly every time her throat released a moan. Her head tilted sideways to allow the Doctor access to her neck, where he nibble and bit, just hard enough to leave marks but not enough to hurt. Her grip on his hair tightened, short gasps coming from her mouth.

She found she was letting the Doctor do most of the work, but she planned to return the favor. Her breathing became more ragged when his freezing cold hands released themselves from her face and began to work their way slightly under her shirt. His palms were so chilling against her flushed skin, and she couldn't hold back a shudder. Their lips met again, just as passionately and deeply as before. The Doctor was taking things agonizingly slowly. His fingertips traced each of her ribs while his palm worked at exploring her torso, before finally sliding upwards enough to graze the fabric of her bra. Even at such a small action, Clara gasped.

Her own fingers began unbuttoning his bright white shirt. She was getting anxious to hurry things along. When his shirt was fully open she didn't yet shove it off his shoulders, just splayed all ten fingers across his chest and explored every inch. His hearts were thrumming wildly beneath her palms, every other beat matching her own perfectly.

The Doctor unceremoniously scooped her into his arms, earning a giggle and two hands clasped around his neck. Clara smiled as their lips met again, never breaking the contact the entire way to the bedroom.

Things worked considerably quickly after that. Clara's shirt was pulled up and over her head, while she worked the Doctor's off of his shoulders. Their bodies flush against each other, Clara began to work the Doctor's solid black trousers beneath his hips and completely off his legs, and his boxers came next. He repeated the process on Clara, laughing a bit as she shuddered at the feeling of his hands drifting closer and closer to her need.

They were done wasting time. No more teasing, no more stroking, just speed.

And savoring.

One hand was in her hair while the other drifted lower and lower, grazing across her wetness in one long stroke before letting out a moan of his own. He looked up into Clara's eyes. They were pleading. Begging. In _need. _

Who was he to say no?

He positioned himself correctly and sank inside of her with one long thrust. He clutched Clara's shoulders and she clasped her hands around his neck, moving up and down against each other in perfect sync.

"Doctor.." She sighed out his name, bucking her hips upward to meet each thrust. She requested roughly for him to go faster, and the Doctor was more than happy to comply.

The moment was far from perfect. Sloppy and uncoordinated. But it somehow all worked. Somehow ended in a mutual climax, completed with screams and howls of pleasure.

They rode out the wave for what seemed to be an eternity, each moment enjoyed as if it were the first time.

When it finally drew to an end, they rolled over so that the Doctor was underneath before they separated again. The Doctor lay on his back, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath, while Clara lowered herself down to lay almost completely on top of him. Her head rested against his chest, her fingers twined with his and her thumb tracing small patterns on top of his hand.

They didn't exchange an I love you.

They didn't ask if the other was okay.

Because they already knew.

So instead, the moment was spent with more breathless savoring.

Because every Christmas, was last Christmas.


End file.
